


Good Roommate

by starwarned



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Banter, Getting Together, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Simon Snow, Roommates, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Seventh Year, simon straight up carries baz which is all I needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25280404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Baz is going to die.Based on the prompt: "I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge." "Can I pick?"
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 10
Kudos: 213





	Good Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> hi! I've been sitting on this one for a while, tweaking it every so often, but I just re-read carry on and got really inspired to finalize and post it. let me know what y'all think :)

**SIMON**

Baz is going to die. 

And it’s not even going to be my fault, which is simultaneously disappointing and relieving. 

Unfortunately, I have the perfect opportunity to save him. It would be incredibly more convenient if he was stuck there with no space for rescue and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty letting him die. 

But I’m a good roommate. 

So I’ll save him. He’ll most certainly chew me out about it later (whether that’s for not saving him sooner or for saving him _at all_ ), but I have to. 

He’s covered in blood (his own or mine or _other_ , I’m not sure) and for the first time in a long time, he looks absolutely exhausted and _not perfect_. Pieces of his typically smooth and pristine hair are falling into his face as he casts spells left and right, trying to take down the horde of goblins. Sure, goblins are stupid and stout, but there are too many of them for Baz to take down all by himself, especially when he seems this stricken.

I’m further away from Baz than would be convenient, but I’ve been driven away from him by the magnitude of enemies I’ve had to behead. When I steal a glance back over to Baz again, I know it’s my last chance to get in there and help him. I watch as one of his spells (that should have exploded a goblin into pink glitter) practically bounces off of his target and showers glitter into the air. He’s too tired and too weak to last. 

I growl and whip around, slicing off the head of the nearest goblin before running the fifteen or so paces it takes to get to Baz. He barely even notices me coming towards him (and on closer look, his eyes look half-closed, like he’s falling asleep in the midst of casting spells), but he straightens up when I clasp my free hand on his shoulder and _push_ my magic into him. 

Baz’s voice gets immediately louder (like it has the last two times we’ve done this), his once wavering tone now strong and clear, calling out the last of the spell ( **“ Death by a thousand paper-cuts”** ) so that four of the goblins around him get sliced into pieces. It’s a pretty advanced spell (that usually just gives someone intensely bad paper cuts) and I would be impressed that Baz pulled it off, but I’ve recently stopped being impressed by Baz because he’ll usually just one-up himself within minutes. 

Because there are still at least a dozen goblins surrounding us, I try and keep my hand pressed against Baz’s shoulder while using my other arm to swing the Sword of Mages to keep Baz covered from the back. 

I wish I could be watching him. He even just _sounds_ extraordinary, his elocution as flawless as ever, barely even taking breaths between shouting spells around him. At one point, my hand slips off of Baz, and his voice stutters, his body slumping behind me before I’m able to grab onto him again. I’m opening myself up for him to draw on my magic before I’ve even touched him again, so the effects of him being attached to my supply of magic are prompt, like a record player needle being pulled off a record and immediately being placed back on. 

I plunge my sword into the last pressing goblin, immediately whipping around to help Baz, only to realize he’s finished off the last one on his side around the same time. Baz is breathing heavily and I’m loath to let go of him because I’m afraid he’ll collapse without the support of my magic. Unfortunately, Baz is starting to smell like smoke and he’s _flammable_ so I let go, taking a step back. Baz stumbles, his head falling forward, but he catches himself, swaying on his feet. He can barely tilt his head up to look at me and I’ve never seen him look this haggard. 

He starts to fall over, his eyes shutting. I’m not sure if he’s passing out or just thinking of taking nap right there in the Wood, but I rush forward to catch him, scooping him up into my arms. He’s not exactly easy to carry with how lanky he is, but this is the best way I can think to get him back to our room. I can’t _not_ think about how I’ve carried Agatha like this once before (she passed out in class when someone got a nasty cut), but Baz is colder than Agatha ever was, even if he smells like he just walked through a forest fire. I’m not sure if he’s totally passed out, but if I tried to set him on his feet right now, he’d surely topple over. His eyes are closed. 

Baz originally said that the gang of goblins was probably sent by the Humdrum, but it didn’t _feel_ like the Humdrum. My skin wasn’t being sucked like the air was trying to take my soul out of my pores. I think it’s more likely that some of them finally got smart enough to band together and take me out. Either way, Baz and I were lucky to get out alive (well, almost-alive in Baz’s case). 

Even as I walk out of the Wavering Wood and past the football pitch, I still don’t think it was the Humdrum. 

Baz isn’t necessarily heavy, but ask anyone to carry a dead-weight lanky teenager for more than five minutes and they’ll have a hard time. 

I’m grateful it’s getting late because nobody is outside and Baz and I have it all to ourselves. I’d say Baz would enjoy this if he was conscious, but he’d probably complain about how cold it is. I’m trying to walk quickly though because, judging by the sky, the drawbridge is going to close soon. 

By the time I’ve got Baz up to our room, struggling to get the door open without dropping him, he’s stirring, humming low in his throat when I set him down carefully on the bed. I stumble to my side of the room in order to strip off my shirt. 

“Simon.” Baz’s voice is soft and I immediately swing around. 

He’s sitting up on his bed, head leaning back against the wall, eyes shut like he’s in pain. He likely is in pain, now that I think about it for more than two seconds. 

“Yeah?” I ask, stepping over to him, staying a couple of paces back from the bed. He’d probably murder me if I got any closer. 

“Where’s your shirt?” he asks once he’s opened his eyes to look at me. There’s an emotion shining in his eyes that I can’t pinpoint. 

“On the floor, covered in goblin blood.” 

“Put on a new one.” 

“I was planning on showering first, Baz,” I mutter. I almost add that he should be worried about that, too. 

Baz looks down at himself and grimaces. He starts to reach for his wand, assumedly to cast **Clean as a whistle** , before wincing at the movement and stopping. He sits back against the bed. 

“You could have gotten out of there,” Baz says. “Why the hell did you stay?”

I furrow my brow a little bit. Sure, Baz and I are enemies, but I wasn’t going to leave him to die. I tell him as much. I don’t add that it would be a pain to get a new roommate this close to the end of the year.

“So you put your own life in danger to save mine.” Baz sits up further on the bed and swings his legs over the side as though he’s starting to get up. 

I take a step towards him preemptively, just in case he decides to be an idiot and stand. “They were _goblins_ , Baz, we weren’t going to die as long as there were two of us.”

Baz stands up, sways a little bit, then steadies. “It was reckless.” 

“When have you expected anything different from me?” 

“You’re absolutely daft!” His shout is out of the blue and I flinch back. “If you hadn’t opened your fucking fountain of magic to me, I would have probably died, and you would have gotten rid of me. Easy, Simon! Take me out while you have the chance.” He takes a couple of steps toward me. 

I can’t stop staring at his mouth. The way it shapes around the insults is oddly beautiful. I can barely focus on spitting out a response. “I didn’t want to.” 

“Someone call the Queen and get you knighted!” Baz hisses, sarcasm dripping from his lips. 

“You’re safe, Baz! What the hell do you want me to say? That I’m sorry for helping you? I’m not! We’re supposed to have a truce right now.” 

He’s close to me now. He’s never gotten this close when we’ve fought before, especially not in our room.

“Truce be damned. If I’d had that opportunity, I’d have thought long and hard about letting the goblins take you out and crown their new king!” 

I flinch. “I couldn’t leave you!”

Baz spits out, “I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge.” 

I freeze for half a second. 

I don’t even think before I speak. 

“Can I pick?” 

Baz’s eyes go wide. 

Before he can say anything, I grab him by the dirty collar and kiss him. 

He’s stiff for longer than I want (my brain is in overdrive at this moment and I’m ready for him to throw me out the window, Anathema be damned), but after a few seconds, he softens. He kisses me back. 

Baz’s mouth tastes vaguely of blood and smoke (that one’s certainly at the fault of my magic), but I’ve never been more aroused by a kiss in my life. Nobody ever talks about when you’re kissing someone and you go in with your mouth open and theirs is closed. Then once you’ve pulled away for breath and go in again, their mouth is open and you’ve subconsciously closed yours. Nobody talks about that push and pull of availability inside someone’s mouth. Baz is an expert at the concept, apparently, knowing exactly when to kiss me when my mouth is just open enough that he can press his tongue against my teeth.

It’s dizzying. Even though I’ve stabled my hold on him by pressing my hands against his shoulders, Baz is practically knocking me off balance with how fiercely I’m being snogged. His arms are slung around my waist, palms pressing into my back so our chests are pinned together.

I tug back. “Why’d you use that spell?” 

Baz’s eyes flutter open, his body still leaning forward into mine. He looks confused as to why I stopped. “What?”

“Why’d you use the paper cut spell?” I don’t dare say the spell out loud, knowing I’ll probably slice Baz’s head off if I think about it too much. 

Baz looks dazed. Whether that’s the fault of him losing all his stamina or the snogging, I’m not sure. He almost-blushes, the tiniest bit of color flooding his cheeks. “I wanted to know what it would do if you were giving me your magic.” 

I feel like laughing, but hold back and allow myself a small grin. “You were experimenting? At the expense of my reserves?”

Baz’s eyes widen a little bit before he realizes I’m taking the piss. “You have an endless supply that I could have drawn from,” he sneers (but it doesn’t feel as antagonistic this time). “Hence why I passed out and you-” he stops. “Did you carry me here?” 

“Like a blushing bride.” 

His blush grows deeper, on cue. He looks away, eyes catching on my chest. I’m glad I didn’t put a shirt on. 

I fight the urge to pinch his cheeks. I want to kiss him again. (This is all new territory - the wanting to kiss. It’s not new territory to be thinking about pinching his cheeks, or just his face in general). 

Baz doesn’t say it, but when he looks back up at me, he looks grateful. I’m not sure that it’s in his blood to thank me for anything, so I take it and run with it. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I didn’t say-”

“I know.” 

He kisses me this time.

**Author's Note:**

> (also I'm working on two more fics right now and they're both hardcore smut whoopsies)


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